


Happiness is a butterfly (try to catch it like every night)

by mollykaths



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Femdom, JD got help and went to therapy, JD is helplessly in love with Veronica, JD is still a bit of a cringelord, JD's ass gets absolutely OBLITERATED, Light Dom/sub, Pegging, Praise Kink, This takes place 6 years later, Veronica is Veronica, Veronica went to an Ivy League school, because this is a happy au, because this is fanfiction and we can do that here, but in a good way ofc, but no murder, enjoy, healthy and normal Jdonica, now with art!, references to the musical, there is not a dominant bone in musicalverse JD's body and you know it, there's references to JD's shitty childhood, very female gaze-y art of twenty something JD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollykaths/pseuds/mollykaths
Summary: Veronica drops the bags of groceries on the counter and her gaze shifts to her boyfriend. It’s not entirely fair that Jason Dean can make such an impression by doing nothing at all— a far cry from how things used to be. He’s on his back, stretched out on the couch, focused on what she can only assume is some Russian novel.Showered, fresh-smelling— something like cologne mixed with cigarettes— donning a flimsy tank and jeans. Damp, unkempt hair that sticks to his face and makes his cheekbones knife-like and lethal. Veronica’s stomach does flip flops. There’s no air between her lungs and she’s only just got home.  It’s unfair, what the world’s put him through but it hasn’t made him any less beautiful.
Relationships: Jason "J. D." Dean & Veronica Sawyer, Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Smarty pants Veronica graduated from an Ivy League school and got a job as an editor at a fancy publishing company. (so basically, no one's life in 2020) Was the economy better in the 90s? I don't remember, sorry. I was like 5 and only understood tamagotchis and Spice Girls.
> 
> J.D. is a freelance writer and he....idk writes about hating society and rich people and he doesn't moisturize his face.

“Welcome home, _Miss Veronica Sawyer_ ,” J.D. singsongs from the living room couch, right on queue as Veronica closes the door to the apartment behind her, locks it, and scuffles past the hallway. 

“How was your first day of work, Editor-in-Chief?” J.D. calls out. 

Veronica drops the bags of groceries on the counter and her gaze shifts to her boyfriend. It’s not entirely fair that Jason Dean can make such an impression by doing nothing at all— a far cry from how things used to be. He’s on his back, stretched out on the couch, focused on what she can only assume is some Russian novel.

Showered, fresh-smelling— something like cologne mixed with cigarettes— donning a flimsy tank and jeans. Damp, unkempt hair that sticks to his face and makes his cheekbones knife-like and lethal. Veronica’s stomach does flip flops. There’s no air between her lungs and she’s only just got home.It’s unfair, what the world’s put him through but it hasn’t made him any less beautiful. 

“First of all,” She begins, “It’s just Editor, not Editor-in-Chief. Secondly, get your dirty shoes off those cushions. We’ve talked about this.”

J.D. grunts and kicks off his shoes, replies, “Yeah, I’m aware. Thought Editor-in-Chief sounded sexier. I was thinking of some role-play. You can be the Editor-in-Chief. I’m the plucky intern who looks up to you and I’d do _anything_ to please you.”

Veronica laughs. Their eyes meet, finally: his dark and glinting with amusement. She can’t tell if he’s teasing her but it’s enough to stop her from unpacking groceries to sit next to him on the couch. J.D. is a magnet, his charm reeling her in and keeping her locked in place. He lifts his legs so they’re resting on Veronica’s lap. 

“You know…” She supplies, gaze fixed on his legs; those long, slender legs, " ...you could learn a thing or two about subtly.” 

Staring at the wrinkles on his undershirt, Veronica contemplates how thin the layer of fabric is. It doesn't do much to hide the muscles underneath. He’s lean, thin but graceful enough to sweep her off her feet and carry her around their tiny apartment.

“Pot, meet kettle,” J.D. retorts.

His hand finds hers and he squeezes gently, sets the book on his lap to pull her into a kiss. It’s not a deep kiss but Veronica is already intoxicated enough that it leaves her breathless.  They break apart and J.D. asks, “So are you gonna keep eyeing me like a piece of meat? Or shall we resume our Tuesday night routine of heating up Chinese food and watching trashy reality television.”

Veronica wants to argue that she just brought home fresh produce and it’d be nice if they cooked dinner together but that's not exactly a priority right now. Instead, she bounces excitedly and returns to the bags she’s left on the counter.

“I was thinking….we could hold off on dinner. You might want to give Tolstoy a break, considering the plans I’ve got for you tonight.

“Actually, I was reading _Pasternak_ but consider my interest piqued. Make your case.”

He folds his hands under his head and watches Veronica as she bites her lip, rummaging through the plastic bag. “Don’t freak out,” she starts.

“You’re really building this up so it’d better be good.... _oh_.”

J.D.'s eyes widen, mouth agape and for once he's rendered speechless; no witty rejoinder, just an empty silence hanging between the two as Veronica presents a harness with a silicone dildo attached. A simple, recognizable shape.

“I’m sorry,” Veronica mumbles, flustered, prepared to pack it away and never speak of it again. “It was supposed be a surprise but I realize it’s probably too much—“

“Veronica, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard.”

“Bullshit, when have I ever caught you off guard?”

He seems surprised for a few more beats but soon enough, J.D.'s features soften into something like a crooked grin— the kind of look that guts her every damn time. When they move the conversation to the bedroom, J.D. reaches for a cigarette from the nightstand, lights it, then takes a long drag. His shoulders slump as he breathes in and out, smoke leaving his nostrils. He’s got an eyebrow arched, waiting her to say something.

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it’d be good for you,” Veronica explains. 

“I know,” J.D. says, matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t just been asked to get on all fours and get fucked in the ass. It’s not the _dirtiest_ thing they’ve ever done and honestly, this kind of thing isn't entirely off-brand for their sexual proclivities. Still, most men would balk at the idea. _But J.D. isn’t like most men_ , a tiny voice in her head reminds her. 

-

_She’s pinned her boyfriend's wrists to the bed and ridden him to near-death, taking what she wanted and not stopping until she was satiated. His hair fanned out over the pillow, arrayed like a halo. Doting prayers coming from a sweet mouth: “Slow down, please, please it can’t be over yet, not yet, make it last, I need it to last. Longer. Fuck, Veronica, wait—”_

_ She’s lied on her back: pale, skinny hips thrusting into her. She’s smacked his ass, loving the way he’d whine and bury his face into her shoulder, chanting, “Wanna be good, good for you.” _

-

So maybe it’s not uncharacteristic when J.D. sticks the cigarette in the ashtray and goes slack, tugging her forward. The space between them is closed so easily. He brushes Veronica’s hair behind her ear. His thumb finds another strand of hair and twirls it between his fingers. His lips curve upward.

“You’ll make it better, someday,” J.D. says, softly and with reverence.

Veronica wants to ask what that means but J.D. is framed by moonlight, lips soft and eyes half-lidded. It takes too much effort to dissect J.D.'s arbitrary remark and no effort at all to shove him onto his back, straddle his hips and suck his tongue into her mouth. Veronica swallows his moans and he opens his legs to give her something to rut against. 

-

“So you’re into it?” Veronica asks, between kisses. 

J.D. unhooks her bra and eagerly cups her soft breasts.

“There’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t let you do to me. Call me a romantic.”

“So very romantic,” Veronica giggles.

-

Now spread and sprawled for her, on his hands and knees, Veronica gets to work. She takes her time opening him up with lube: first with just one finger. J.D. is silent at the first sign of intrusion so she waits for him to get acclimated. 

“Just feels _different_ ,” J.D. mumbles. His voice wavers a bit, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he hasn’t been ruined already. Cute, but Veronica knows better. Then she crooks her finger, finds a new angle and _wow_ , this kind of power is nothing short of enthralling. J.D bows his head and makes an interesting sound. Something curious, light and airy and almost delicate. 

“Do that again,” J.D. moans.

She does. Slowly. One finger after the other. Three fingers deep, J.D. starts to pant.

“Veronica,” J.D. warns.

“ _Jason_ ,” She replies, matching his tone.

It’d be accommodating to just skip to penetration but then Veronica remembers how J.D. never gives it to her when she asks. Always drawing things out, teasing and pushing her buttons until she can’t take it anymore. Holding her in place as she slowly sinks onto his length, not letting her move, making her wait. Insufferable, cocky Jason Dean. Now it’s time to return the favor: not payback. Just balance. Alternatively, Veronica gives his ass a good smack. J.D. cries out, pushing back into every thrust, needing so much more but taking what he’s given with compliance.

Remembering that J.D. likes it a bit rough, Veronica cards her hand through his hair while she fucks him with her fingers, pulling tight. 

“ _Veronica_ ,” J.D. chokes. 

“Yes, Jason?” 

“Kind of reaching the point of no return.”

Veronica just hums, her pitch indifferent.

“You can’t just make me come like this, with just your fingers.”

She sees his belly go taut, as if he’s trying to hold it in and make it last. Stretched over his back, covering his hips, petite legs draped over his, Veronica makes him feel her tiny body and what it's about to do to him. The tip of the silicone cock presses against him and J.D. groans. Veronica breathes against the nape of his neck as she fills him. Once she’s at the hilt, J.D. whines, head falling limply on the pillow. 

“Who’d’ve thought,” J.D. snorts, sounding ragged. “Veronica Sawyer. This is what she gets up to in her spare time.”

He mumbles something into the pillow: _Oh, if only your stuffy coworkers knew they've welcomed such a naughty dominatrix into their domain_ , then something about Veronica running for office and becoming the first female president so he can be the manager of her campaign.

“You can— _fuck_ — make me your bitch, then when you win the election—“ J.D. stops talking when Veronica hits his prostate at a particularly sensitive angle. He tries to hold back a whimper and fails. It’s a rewarding sound so Veronica doubles her efforts and fucks him harder, fingers gripping his thighs.

He continues, sounding absolutely wrecked. “— Wh-when you win you can take me to the White House, strip me down and let me, _ahh,_ let me w-worship you—“ 

“That’s a nice sentiment but you’re basically an anarchist and you _hate_ politics,” Veronica points out.

“For the sake of role-play?” J.D. asks.

“We could work with it,” Veronica says, then taps him on the shoulder, motioning him to flip over. Suddenly, it’s crucial that Veronica sees J.D.’s face as he comes. “You’d have to ditch the trench coat for that storyline.”

“It’s a duster,” J.D. argues. “Need I remind you.”

Long legs hang over Veronica’s shoulders. She grabs J.D.'s ankle, kisses it, then nearly folds him in half as she pistons her hips, memorizing what feels good. Each noise J.D. makes sounds even better than the last. His toes curl, his back arched. His eyes are closed in concentration, dark lashes contrasting fair skin. There's resistance: as Veronica fucks him in earnest, she can feel him growing tighter and tighter around the cock. Now that he’s facing her, J.D. reaches for her breasts and kneads them tenderly: something to hold onto while she rocks forward. His thumb finds her stiff nipple and he tweaks it. Appreciating the gesture, Veronica lets out a humbled sigh, dipping her hand around his front. 

He’s earned it. 

Skin red-hot all over, pretty faced scrunched up as if he’s in some kind of pain— far from it, of course— J.D writhes as she meticulously brings him bliss. One hand is wrapped firmly around his erect cock, the other pressed to his abdomen, holding him in place. J.D. growls in frustration as he smacks the wall behind him. The intensity floods Veronica with heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” He whines, desperately, wriggling his hips to drive back into the push of the toy inside him. “ _Fuck_ , Veronica. _Fuck me_.”

He’s going to come apart, crumble into pieces beneath her touch.

“I am,” She says, cheerfully, and gives his cock one final squeeze. 

"I'm coming," J.D. weeps. There's an errant tear in his eye and Veronica wipes it away with her thumb. " _Oh_ , I'm coming--" 

_How astute_ , Veronica thinks. This kind of control is really giving her some clarity. _This_ is why Jason Dean's so complacent when it comes to sex. And to think there was a time when J.D. would cower at the thought of anyone else seeing him like this; peeling back the layers and trying to unravel a tangled mess of grief, anger, confusion and giving it a home, a space to process and disembody from the rest of the world. 

"I've got you," She whispers. "You're beautiful, Jason. Don't you know?"

Desperate, debauched, _devastated,_ Jason Dean wails, spilling into Veronica’s fist. She slides her hand up, palms the tip, then slides it back down, dragging the aftermath of his release with it. It’s both messy and picturesque. After she’s grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and wiped his abdomen clean, Veronica curls up next to J.D.’s limp, boneless and warm body. He stares at her like she's God.

“You wanna sit on my face?” J.D. inquires after a few moments of silence.

Veronica wrinkles her nose.

“For someone who holds classic literature to such a high standard, your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.”

“Fine,” Says J.D., wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. 

“I love you, most ardently _,_ ” He tries.

Veronica bites his shoulder and he breaks out into a yelp, followed by subsequent laughter. It’s corny, sure, but it works.

They work.


	2. NOW WITH ART!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica & JD in the 90s! Feel free to follow me on tumblr dot com (satmolly) I post lots of Heathers art there.

[ ](https://ibb.co/g9V66Nc)

[](https://ibb.co/GpmqScd)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

> I love antagonistic and murderous rebel boy J.D. in both the movie and musical but how about some domestic and cute shit because I just paid rent and I have $100 left in my bank account, my apartment doesn't have central heating, I'm cold, and I need comfort.


End file.
